Easter’s hope

20160927_190919On a night like this,

beneath clouds of white concrete

a cradle of motionless stars;

I sit and ponder,

the mystery of a king

trading his life for a starry eyed wonderer.

What would he have said

of this wooden jungle grounded in concrete,

mini-cages holding lives

he wills the gift of freedom,

healing rooms that cure the coffin

but not the bone.

Aye! I ask myself,

what would he have thought,

of boxes that look within but see not the person,

of mirrors that speak the truth

in syllabus that only the deaf comprehend.

Of little value is the spring dew

to the flesh of a spirit languishing from thirst.

On a night as such,

beneath white concrete clouds

I ask myself

of what use are stars

if they lead us nowhere in the dark.

If ….

If all the knives in the house were bread knives

with what would we butter our toast.

If all the knives in the house were matches

with what would we cut out vegetables.

If all the knives were the same

what a grace-less act it would be enjoy a simple meal

and a horrendous ordeal to chop the wood with a table knife.

If you and I were the same,

of what use is the day and night?

All for nought would be the

strings of silence played by the mid-night breeze.

All for nought the

chorus of birds at the command of a rising sun.


A hearty welcome to all new followers, viewers and faithful virtual friends, you gladden my heart. On this quest were many cry ‘abandon this infatuation’ I sincerely appreciate all those who haven’t dissented.

Happy Easter.

Nature’s frame.

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Shards of frozen crystals settle on a rock

Beauty lends itself a home on a bedrock of strength.

Exquisitely adorned by nature.

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I feel your strength engulfing me

bidding me live, bidding me stand

in-spite of your cold and aloof nature.

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Set this frame right next to me

and when cold hands come beckoning

The ambience of happy days spent with you shall comfort me.


Written for the daily post and photo challenge.

Slain

On the altar of hope lies a crimson heart

char my doubts,

pray the wind at dawn scatter my ashes 

unto distant shores of pleasant pastures.

it wails.

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On the shores of an abyss lies a patched mind

swallow my pain,

pray  the waves at dusk snatch my memory

into depths unknown from which none shall return

it wails.

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On the cross of forgiveness lies a broken body

salvage my wounds

pray the dew of heaven nourish my flesh

healing every crevice blotting out every scar

it cries.

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On the altar of love, a voice beckons … 

’tis but for a season’ this too …

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Reflections

Deep and fearful

is the boundless pit of inferiority.

Throw in your mansions, jets 

achievements and dreams.

Wider only shall it’s jaws grow, insatiable yet contained.

pulling you into a shrivelling shell.

 

His bedmate superiority 

differs not by much.

His garlands of acquisition enthrones him on high

from whence he tumbles at the whiff of a challenge.

Bill Gates is not the prince of Wales 

and the Prince of Wales isn’t Bill Gates.

Each holds a stake but one has the veins.

Find your God, find true royalty.

DNA connected.

 

Many are the battles that swell my pride,

Deep are the valleys from whence my soul cries deliverance.

Battles fierce and valleys black no conquest surmounts the 

victorious chant ‘I encouraged myself in the Lord.’ 

For with it inferiority’s loses its hold.

and the yoke of superiority is abolished.

My mind sings freely to the one who gave me victory

and taught me peace in the valley.

 

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Tiny

Tiny bubbles rise to the surface

Tiny cracks appear on the wall

Tiny ever so tiny

Lay down the chisel

Pack up the easel.

Standing on the capricious edge of definition

the shadow sprawled in break-away

the spine abandoned hopes of a breakthrough

Tiny ever so tiny

Was the last momentum

upon which a new hope depended.

Tiny but ever more exerting.

Image result for free images of a crack in the wall

Written for the daily prompt breakthrough.

 

Luminous

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A burning tree; illuminated by the angels.

perhaps a curse from the gods; perhaps a blink of hope to the weary traveler.

Certainly a haven for evil spirits; surely a place of restoration.

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Oh hogwash!

I’m just a tree hiding a lamp post.

And I am just a lamp post sheltered by a tree.

Let your light shine where ever you are …

Not every covering is to be shaken off, sometimes they add more mystery to us, sometimes they keep us safe.

No matter what you do everyone will have an opinion

even when they can’t see the whole picture.

I prayed

I prayed the Lord my height to increase

a head taller I stood above my peers by morn.

I stood tall, my glory and flaws a public showpiece,

a head bent, I sought solace from dreams and dreads that had me torn.

 

I prayed the Lord my gait to straighten,

soon I took aristocratic steps on the streets of my youth.

I smiled in pride, they swore vehemently shattering my haven,

sober and dismayed, I sought solace from green eyed sleuths.

 

I prayed,

The Lord answered

Alas it came as a DIY package; His part was to deliver the package with clear instructions and a helpline to assist, my part is to assemble the structure.